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AND OTHER POEMS 

BY 

GLENN HUGHES 




MCMXVII 

PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 

SAN FRANaSCO 






Copyright, 1917, by 
PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 

San Francisco 



NOV -7 1317 
©C!.A477458 






TO MY STEPMOTHER 

CORA BROUGHTON HUGHES 

WHO FILLED MY CHILDHOOD WITH POETRY 

AND WHOSE LOVE AND PATIENCE 

HAVE BEEN 

MIRACLES IN MY LIFE 



Contents! 

PAGE 

Souls 3 

Carmel Valley — A Memory 4 

Morning Song 6 

The Burden Bearer 7 

The Element Shop 8 

Understanding Never 10 

A Las Novias Tristes — Cuento de Labios en 

Flor 11 

Roles 14 

J'ai Cherche Trente Ans, Mes Soeurs ... 15 

La Flute Amere de L'Automne 16 

Monterey 17 

I Have Grown Very Tired 18 

Snow Falling 19 

Prayer of the Aesthete 20 

All Merry are the Lighted Streets Christ- 
mas Day 22 

Black and White 24 

Revolt 25 

Conviction 26 

A Conception 28 

Transformation 30 

Over Lummi 31 

V 



Contents; 

PAGE 

Across the Sea 32 

Illusion 33 

I Have Builded a Citadel 34 

Song .36 

In Absence Z7 

Ships 38 

From a High Hill 40 

By the Way 42 

Song in Absence 44 

Hic Jacet 45 

Incident 46 

Sonnet to Silence 48 

The Path of No Returning 49 

Thou Temptress, Moon ! 50 

Through My Latticed Window 51 

Look, Love, upon the Sea 52 

Thoughts on a Spring Night 54 

Fire of the Desert 55 

Spring Morn 56 

A Tent-light on the Desert 58 

Three Kisses 59 

Like Death 60 

Night Song 62 



VI 



^oute anti 0tbtv ^oerns; 



When I have vanished from the ranks of men 
And joined the greater caravan 
That treads far spaces, 
I wonder, O Beloved of the earth, what you 
will be to me. 

I think I shall forget the rose — 
Dear, delicate brother of the soil; 
I think I shall forget the sea — 
Grey, wild waste of mystery; 
I think I shall forget the fields — 
Wide, warm cradle of the living; 
These are of the earth, as is my body. 

But how. Beloved, when I join the caravan, 
Can my immortal soul forget its light. 
Transcendent beauty of a kindred sort. 
Flaming through the corridors of being 
Alive, ever alive ! 

Spark of the white, imperishable light 
Burning in the hand of God? 



Carmel ^allep— ^ iWemorp 

To A.V. 

The moon last night took me away 
A thousand miles from here; 

To where a silent valley lay 
And where the sea was near. 

Along the hill a white road ran, 

It twisted, rose and fell; 
I could not see where it began, 

Its end I could not tell. 

And somewhere there was lilac wild, 

It drifted on the air; 
That may be why the pale moon smiled 

And why the stars were fair. 

Across the valley, dim below, 
A wavering night-wind crept; 

And stirred the grasses to and f ro— 
They murmured as they slept. 

Far down the little river dreamed, 

And glided to the sea; 
It sang no song, but rather seemed 

Blind to its destiny. 



And ere it reached the thin white line 

That glinted on the shore, 
A pallid mist, silken and fine. 

The sea sent on before. 

It wrapped the river in its arms, 

And kissed its languid eyes; 
With warm breath and with drowsy charms 

It stilled the river's sighs. 

And so the river died in sleep. 

Murmuring not a word; 
Only the grasses cared to weep — 

Their tears the night- wind heard. 

The white road lay along the hill, 

The moon took me away; 
I could have wept — I could weep still, 

I wanted so to stay. 



Awake! awake! 
For Dawn has scaled the battlements of Night 
And lo! the East is glorified with light! 

Awake! awake! 

Yo-ho ! yo-ho ! 
Come o'er the sea — there is a merry gale! 

Come o'er the land — wild flowers are in the 
vale! 

Yo-ho! yo-ho! 

Ha-ha! ha-ha! 
This wine of life is ah! so sweet to sip! 
That Death shall find — a smile upon my lip ! 

Ha-ha! ha-ha! 



6 



Ste Purben fearer 

You ask why poets seem so old and grave, 
And why their forms are very often bent — 
Their faces furrowed, eyes deep with intent 
And lights that speak of many things they 

crave 
And cannot find. And so you ask what gave 
These strange appearances — what fires God 

sent 
Through human mind and limb that could 

have lent 
Outward distortions when the soul was brave. 

Ah, have you seen the twisted cypress tree, 
Bearing the sorrows of a thousand years? 
The poet stands upon a high, bare point, 
And, like the cypress, listens to the sea — 
A sea made out of myriad human tears, 
That rise about him, and his feet anoint. 



tEfie Clement ^f)op 

Have you ever heard tell of the Element Shop 
Away out where the West and the East both 
stop, 

And the old world knows neither bottom nor 
top? 

'Tis a wonderful place to see; 

For the walls of the Shop are the great Four 
Winds, 

With a pattern of lightning that flares and 
blinds. 

And the ceiling is thunder that roars and 
grinds. 

As it rolls like a mad sound-sea. 

And the rain plays tag with the flashing 

sunbeams. 
And the snow whirls softly beneath the moon's 

gleams. 

While light winds are passing — light winds of 
our dreams — 

Wildly happy to play so free. 



8 



In the Element Shop all the Elements play, 

And they know not nor care to know Night 
from Day, 

As they wait the summons that calls them 
away — 

Tis a summons they cannot flee. 

The Gods of the Universe barter and sell, 
And the Elements follow their biddings well 
From uppermost Heaven to nethermost Hell- 
And the Gods chuckle loud with glee. 

Ah ! the Element Shop is a wonderful shop, 

Away out where the West and the East both 
stop, 

And the old world knows neither bottom nor 
top — 

But alas! only God can see! 



®nber£(tanbins iOtebet 

You who are ever sweeping ahead of me, 
Tell me — what are you ? 

I have seen you in the form of fresh flowers 

Waving in the hill-wind. 

I have seen you rising in grey folds,with blue 

lustre in your eyes, and a red flare on 

your lips, 

When I have gazed at fire. 

I have seen you rocking in the white spray 
under the sun. 

When I have looked to sea. 

And ever, waking or sleeping, sorrowful or 
mad with joy, my heart sings with a 
music 

Made for you, 

And which I can never understand. 



10 



!9 %ai Jtobiasf ^tiitti 

Cuento de Labios en Flor 
From the Spanish of Martinez Sierra 

Haste! for the servant has brought 

Shrouds for the burial. Lo! 
Petals of Jasmine have caught 
Snow-like on foliage, and naught 

Breathes but of death and of woe. 

Maker of Coffins, prepare. 

Seek in the forests of pine, 
Wood filled with odors so rare. 
Breathing of Spring, sweet and fair — 

Soft for the dead to recline. 

Build you the coffin with nails 
Molded of silver, and bright. 
Then with the sound of the flail 
Let free the heart-piercing wail, 
Prayer to the Powers of the Night. 

Late in the night do you creep 
Where 'neath the black coffins' top 

Both of the dead maidens sleep; 

Pluck from the sky's bluest deep. 
Stars — 'tween their lips let them drop. 

11 



Call back the maidens in dreams, 
Back to the warm April morns, 
Back to the golden sun's beams, 
Back to the morning dew's gleams — 
Sounding the tabor and horns. 

Ah ! that between shrouds so drear, 

Beauteous Virgins should lie! 
Maker of Coffins, build here 
Two caskets, rich-carved, a bier 
Fashioned to hold the most high. 

Line them with silk, soft and fine — 
Both, let them both be the same; 

Each is of Springtime a sign. 

Deck them with jewels that shine — 
Splendor, they each shall proclaim. 

One shall be carved for Rose, 

One more for Blanche shall be made; 
One shall be white, and pale rose. 
One shall be white as the snows, 

Rose-tinted — neither shall fade. 



12 



Caskets, pink-white, to be wrought. 

Builder of Coffins, make haste — 
Haste! for the shrouds have been brought, 
Petals of Jasmine have caught 

Snow-like on foliage — make haste! 



13 



When the winds blow and men go 
Down to the sea and out on the sea in 
ships, 

When the night cries with its blind eyes 
And a moan is trembling on its icy lips, 

I am asking in my own heart 

What is my part ? 

For there's warmth here, and there's no fear 

Of the waves' slash or the wild wind that 
comes riding; 

In a white light there's no fright. 

And in a city house there's no terror hiding. 

That's why it's hard to say: 

^Things should be this way." 



14 



3F'ai Cfiercfie Crente Mm, Mti ^oeursi 

(I Have Searched Thirty Years, My Sisters) 
From the French of Maurice Maeterlinck 

Thirty years have I searched, sisters, 

Ah ! where can it be ? 
Thirty years have I searched, sisters, 

Still it eludes me. 

Thirty years have I marched, sisters. 

Tired my feet, and sore. 
It was everywhere, my sisters, 

Now it is no more. 

That sad hour has come, my sisters, 

Lay my sandals by — 
E'en the evening dies, my sisters, 

Sick at heart am I. 



^ 



Thou art now sixteen, my sisters, 
Follow then roads new. 

Take my pilgrim staff, my sisters, 
Go ! and search thou, too. 



IS 



Ha jFlute ^mere be H'^utomne 

(The Sad Flute of Autumn) 
From the French of Andre Ferdinand Herold 

The sad flute of the autumn wails 

Upon the dying eve; 
The wet trees shiver, dead leaves fall — 

The very heavens grieve. 

The wild flowers droop and gently die; 

The birds have flown. Alas! 
Where can another April sing 

Its song through swaying grass ? 

And you, my soul, do pass, heart-sick. 

Forsaken paths along. 
You seek, alas ! pale traveler. 

In vain, the vanished song. 

Ah, love, the songs which charmed us once, 

In autumn ne'er return — 
Yet shall I not see those eyes laugh 

In which the tears now burn? 



16 



iWonterep 

To J. E. P. 

A fishing fleet and a crooked street, 

With a soldier at every bar; 
A 'dobe wall, where the lizards crawl, 

And a screechy, wobbly car. 

A darksome sky with the fog blown high, 

And a quiet, purple bay; 
A Spanish song as we passed along — 

And that was Monterey. 



17 



3 f^abe (Sroton "^erp tKireb 

I have grown very tired 

Of hearing Right and Wrong discussed 

And disputed and modified 

And discussed again. 

So 1 have made up my mind 

To talk no more about them 

And to listen 

To Truth 

Which is within me. 



18 



^noto jFaUing 

On the light wind from the great North is the 

white snow riding, riding, 
Silent as death, and sweet as virgin love; 

Over the dark earth, where hideous things lie 
sleeping. 

Flutters the stainless garment of the heaven. 

O love that in the lilac-blooming hours of 

vagrant summers 
Fell dimly star-like through the gorgeous 

night, 

How mercifully white and cool-breathed are 
thy kisses. 

Falling, falling, trembling in their imperishable 
beauty, 

Fluttering on the light wind of departing years, 

Hoyering immaculate, and descending 

Softly, sweetly, ever white and ever caressing, 

Upon my bitter heart, where sorrow sleeps. 



19 



draper of tift ^efittjete 

Lord God who taught us how to rise 

Above dull mediocrity, 
We thank Thee for the whitened skies 

That none but us can ever see. 

It is not that we would look down 

In mockery on all the rest, 
As wise man contemplates a clown, 

With sneer that kills the other's jest. 

But merely this: who is the man 
That, tasting new and sweet delights, 

Will fail to pity whom he can. 
And glory in his new-found rights? 

Tis seldom. Lord, that in this life 
There flashes out of dreary days 

A joy as keen as any knife 
To cut us free from sodden ways. 

But sometimes there is heard a song, 
Or, say, the sun has kissed the hills; 

The moon gleams white and lingers long. 
Or maddened sea its hate distils. 

20 



Whate'er the pleasure, though 'tis brief. 
The ecstacy is worth our pain, 

One joy is worth a world of grief; 
And all our waiting is not vain. 

Lord God, we would not lose our power, 
Though keener suffering is its price; 

We are content to have our hour 
Of finer joy — let that suffice. 

And so we thank Thee, God of Light, 
Who saves from mediocre Hell; 

From out this whirling pit of night 
We ask one thing: to live life well. 



21 



^U Mtttp are tiie Higfjteb Streets 
CijrtiStmaif Bap 

To O. E, 

All merry are the lighted streets, 
Full-throated is the song, 
And the song is a carol. 

I have wondered what it meant. 

I have looked out over the sea when the mist 

was upon it, 
I have waited in the streets when men went by, 
I have stared at the moon when it hung like a 

Chinese lantern 
And crinkled in the water between itself and 

me; 
I have seen the first snow, 
And felt its white hand of beauty on my brow. 

I have seen dull faces 
And dull eyes. 
And heard dull voices; 
But they have changed. 
And I know why most of them have 
changed — 

It is because work is over, 

\ 

22 



And there are things waiting to be eaten. 
They are right to be happy. 

But I, and others — few others and therefore 
the wisest — 

Have drawn another conclusion. 

Here it is: 

Pity has lighted another candle 

(Love is the flame) 

Along the road, 

And though we know the road has no end, 

We follow it — because it has no end. 

And our eyes flash into the dark. 

As though we desired to behold Truth 

Naked, and all at once. 

We know that it would strike us blind, yea, 
obliterate us! 

But the candle illuminates another hill, 

And the road climbs up its side into the dark. 

We follow! 

It is our inheritance! 

We know that there are candles to be lighted 
on ahead ! 



23 



Plack anb WWt 

A crow and a dove sat on the selfsame tree. 

''Caw!" said the crow. 

''Coo!" said the dove. 

Now the crow was all disheveled: he had been 

pelted 
With rocks and divers missiles hurled in anger. 
Not so the dove; 

He sat serene: perhaps he contemplated 
On a dove-like heaven, or else 
A crow-like hell. 

"Damnation!" cawed the crow. "This is your 
fault! 

If you had never existed 

With your whiteness and serenity 

The world would never have known 

That I was black, and a nuisance." 

"Coo-o-o!" said the dove. 



24 



Bebolt 

Grey, 

Dull, pallid, overhanging dreariness. 

Bathing the room in a colorless desolation 

Like the hue of a sickly, burnt-out soul. 

Steam, 

Hissing thinly, maliciously, 

Like the gossip of sharp-nosed women 

Who sit in their prim parlors. 

Nothing else — 

Oh, yes! 

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. 

From the nickel-plated clock in the far 
corner — 

It seems to have grown into the room. 

It is hard to be conscious of its flat, metallic 
melody. 

Great God ! and this is life ! 

Life which I shall never live again ! 

Let me out ! let me out ! 

Somewhere I shall find a flash of sunlight, or a 

wild sweep of wind over a hill. 
Or a maiden smiling. 



25 



Conbtctton 

I am my own religion ; you are yours. 

Whatever gods we have we each have made. 
And he who says to you, '^Accept my god!*' 

Has said, ''Accept me!'' Thus is truth 
betrayed. 

And ever do men follow in the dark. 
Burning a sacrifice to one before; 

As though the past could hold eternity, 
And future hold no wisdom in its store. 

The present pulls, insistent, at our minds, 
And crushes if we heed her not at all; 

But what is she beside infinity? 
A star that trembles, waiting but to fall. 

And who am I to shape your destiny? 

Alas, it seems men turn to gods, these days. 
Solicitous god-fathers, shaping souls; 

And pointing out the errors of our ways! 



26 



Small wonder that In all the long-dead years, 
The path of life was lit by countless fires! 

Fires fed by bodies of the men who knew, 
And laughed aloud from sacrificial pyres. 

I am my own religion; you are yours. 

Whatever gods we have we each have made. 
And fear not! When eternity revolves, 

Be not of any other's god afraid. 



27 



^ Conception 

The things we should have done and did not do 
Array themselves like ghosts before our 
eyes. 

And every morn that starts our life anew 
Brings on new ghosts to take us by surprise. 

What shall we say? What is there to be said? 

We understood, and yet we did not act. 
Shall we but hang a humble, contrite head, 

And pray for mercy to the All- wise Fact ? 

Or shall we throw regrets upon the wind, 
And face the future with a new-born sight ? 

Condemn the dusty past, and try to find 
A new eternity in every night? 

This much we know: the soul is like a star, 

And is not made and unmade in an hour; 

But stands against the winds that blast and 
scar, 

Like some divine, imperishable flower. 



28 



The things we might have done and did not do 
Passed like the winds that blew from out the 
Space; 
And lo ! our souls that are no longer new 
Turn forward each a strong and starlike 
face! 



29 



Kvmsiiovmation 

Great God ! was ever aught more fair 
Than the virgin moon asleep in the tranquil 
heavens ? 

From the harsh and troublous day 

With its noises and its glamour 

And its surge of human discord, 

I escape to thee, 

Mirror of my radiant soul, 

And once more, 

As if by a divine miracle, 

I am made clean and holy and at peace with all 
things. 



30 



0\}tv Hummi 

The steps of Night quicken, 
The wind stills to a faint breath- 
Cool from the high snow crevices of distant 
hills; 

Over the sea, 

Where through the day the grey and purple 

shadows have been dancing, 
Comes a slow and soft-toned pink, 
Flooding the waters 
With its strange and delicate blushes, 
Till they push upon the land, 
And the slapping wavelets turn them back. 
Piling them on each other 
In rippling confusion. 

See! up over the waves, 

Out, far out through the hovering mist of 
evening. 

Flaring like a wound in the breast of heaven. 
Crimson and gold, and dripping streams of 
light 

On the jagged and darkening island, 
The Sun cries, '^Hail! Farewell!" 



31 



In the wild rain and the hot, pulsating sunlight 

Of a southern island that is strange to me, 

You sit, you girl with eager eyes. 

And 1 remember 

That all your dreams were woven of fine stuff, 

Brocaded things that startled with their beauty. 

But here in the far north. 

Where grey is eternally on the land and on the 

sea, 
I, too, have woven dreams not unlike yours; 
And I am lifted up. 
Burning with a new flame. 

Inwardly exalted to a high heaven of 
understanding. 

To know that space is nothing. 

And that dreams are everything! 



32 



I saw a star break through the evening sky, 
And as it split the bowl of blue it said: 
*'Lo! night is come!" 

I turned to where thou stood'st beside me 
watching, 

And looked within thine eyes; 

And then I said: 

"Beloved, the star spake a lie. 

For behold! I see the day!'' 



33 



3 ^atie iButlbeb a Cttabel 

I have bullded a citadel round my heart; 
Through the years of my youth eagerly have I 

builded, 
And the citadel is of dreams, 
And therefore strong. 

Now at last I am sitting alone with the towers 

and minarets 
Pricking the sky of my fancy. 
A cloud passes 

Hark ! what is that at the gates ? 
It is not a clatter; it is not a booming; nor is it 
aught that 1 have ever heard before! 

I thought at first it was music, 

And then a wave of perfume, 

Or the fluttering of leaves 

In a midnight wind. 

But the towers tremble, 

And the lights in the minarets are shaken — 

A star falls 



34 



Now I can hear it! 

There are footsteps on the marble staircase, 
Drawing nearer, nearer; they have almost 
reached me — 

I am struck blind with an exalted fear, a 
divine grief! 

Beloved ! 

The citadel is falling It is sacred dust at 

our feet! 
We will gather it up in our bare hands 
And build an altar to Truth. 



35 



Whenever I have seen a flower 

Kissed with summer dew 
Tve known that it was by God^s power 

The tender blossom grew. 

Whenever stars burst through the night 

All radiant and divine 
I knew that God gave them their light 

And bade them sweetly shine. 

And now at last my soul has learned 
The thing of all most true — 

Ah, deep within my heart 'tis burned, 
That God made you, made you! 



36 



3n ^hitntt 

Tonight there rose a star so fair 

Across the misty sea; 
And as I watched it burning there 

Behold! I gazed at thee! 

Each night I shall with eager eyes 
Seek out thy blessed face; 

And lo ! within my heart shall rise 
Peace — and an untold grace! 



37 



The ships that are Alaska-bound 
Ride bravely forth against the sky, 

And we who watch along the Sound 
And lift our eyes when they go by 
Can only stand and gaze and sigh. 

At dawn when all the sea is grey, 

A phantom ship slides through the mist; 

And to the northward cuts her way, 
As if to keep a ghostly tryst, 
With some far sea that she has kissed. 

At midday when the sun is lord, 

A gleaming ship drives through the deep; 

Her prow is like a curved sword. 
Slashing the sea with every leap. 
And winning north with valiant sweep. 

At twilight when the sky is red, 
A ship of flame, so strange and pale. 

Like some poor wandering cloud that fled 
The blazing sun, with drooping sail 
Lies calm, forlorn, in night's silk veil. 



38 



When moonlight glimmers on the land, 
And dances on the silent sea, 

A ship, drawn by the night-wind's hand. 
Glides like a spirit-shape set free 
On through a dim eternity. 

The ships that are Alaska-bound 
Ride bravely forth against the sky. 

And we who watch along the Sound 
May never know until we die 
Aught else of these ships passing by. 



39 



Jfrom a ^isij ?|ill 

From this high hill above the city's heart 

The day dies splendidly. 
No wrack or anguish sees the light depart, 

But peace, from oflf the sea. 

Far down, long towers of smoke lean with the 
wind. 

Above the huddled shops; 
The sun, blood-orange, glimmers dim behind, 

And paints the high hilltops. 

The night that gathers thus, silent and swift, 

Seems not of day the foe; 
But rather some dark mistress come to lift 

Day out of human woe. 

Sweet-lipped and dreamy-eyed she hovers 
down, 

Her hair in fragrant folds; 

And in the fluttering rapture of her gown. 

The pallid stars she holds. 



40 



Red sun, and whiter light upon the land, 

She wraps within her arms; 
And lo! the very softness of her hand 

Stills all the world's alarms. 



41 



Pp tfje Wap 

Five fingers of a maple leaf, 
All red and green and brown ; 

Upturned beside the clean-swept path, 
That runs beyond the town. 

Think not I do not see thee there, 

Nor understand thy call ; 
I know full well thine every word — 

My heart, it keeps them all. 

1 hear thee say, "Forsake thy toil 

And come with me away. 
To where the Autumn holds her court, 

And paints a brilliant day. 

"Where curtains are of shining red. 

And carpets are of gold; 
Where sun and mist woo every hill. 

And fragrance fills the wold. 

"Where not a human voice is heard, 

Nor any plaint of woe; 
No soul cries out against the night, 

Nor arm strikes down a foe. 

42 



"But one thing speaks — it is a wind, 
That blows from heaven's gate; 

And all it says is this one song: 
'Come, ere it is too late!' *' 

Five fingers of a maple leaf, 

All red and green and brown — 

A kindly hand upturned to me. 
To lead me from the town. 

I would with all my yearning heart 

That I might heed thy call; 

But I must pass thee rudely by, 
And seek a dreary hall. 



43 



^ons tn ^bitntt 

When falls the dusk of discontent, 
And the long hours flare and fade 

Like dim and distant candle-lights 
The wind has made afraid — 

What shall I then seek,0 my love? 

Shall it be the cool of the western wind, 
Or the sea, with its heavy breath ? 

The red, mad dance of the sodden soul, 
Or the soft, white sleep of death ? 

For these kill discontent, my love. 

Nay, not for me shall these things serve. 
Though earth grow black as doom. 

For I shall sit here quietly 
And see, beyond the gloom. 

Thy face's rapture, O my love. 



44 



l^k Sfattt . . . 

Behold this purple evening by the sea! 

With far and misty moonlight streaming 
through; 

And western wind that carries light and free 

The fragrance of the summer evening's dew. 

Ah, cherished hopes that fade out with the 
stars, 
And make our dreams the vague, uncertain 
lights 
We live by, hold but for this hour the bars 

That change our brilliant dream-morns into 
nights ! 

Be with us yet, ye moons that pierce the dark. 
And cross the purple shadows of our days! 

For wide the sea is where we must embark, 
And few the lights that cheer us on our 
ways. 

Too soon some purple evening by the sea 
With far and misty moonlight streaming 
through 

Will find us where the west wind loves to be, 
And we shall be — but summer evening's 
dew! 

45 



incibent 

A clatter in the narrow court, 
The ambulance engine's throb; 

Then footsteps, orders — low and short — 
The turning of a knob. 

And something to support. 

Four men in white — such noiseless men- 
Bear swiftly through the door 

The Thing that's covered. Quickly then 
More figures join the four — 

The Thing moves on again. 

They lay it on a marble space. 

Within four whitened walls; 
And then they bare the covered face, 

And lo ! about it falls 
A mass of golden lace. 

It is not hair — the kind we know — 

It falls in folds of light, 
Like clouds star-flecked that westward go 

With coming of the night — 
All red and gold they glow. 



46 



White marble is the table-top, 

And red-gold is her hair; 
And in a stream that will not stop 

Red blood runs down her hair, 
And stains the marble top. 

The white men gather close around, 
And touch her thin, white hands. 

That lie across her breast, close-bound 
With long and golden bands 

Of hair that they unwound. 

One cheek lies bare beneath the hair, 

No more than this revealed; 
And pale with Death this cheek— and fair! 

What secret Death concealed 
Will hide forever there. 



47 



bonnet to Silence 

Silence is sweeter far than any sound, 

And dearer than the words we blunder o'er. 

What nameless peace we draw from out its 
store ! 

What ecstacy that speech has never found ! 
And often in such silence I have wound, 
With blessed reverence unknown before. 
Thy hair about my face — loving thee more 
Than any king his queen whom he has 
crowned. 

So silence is, and we who know its charm 

Shall seek within its rapture-halls for peace 

And unmarred love that heeds not time nor 
place — 

The silence-world where fear and loud alarm 

Of living, fighting, failing, ever cease — 

And I shall wind thy hair about my face. 



48 



Clje ^atl) of Mo l^eturnms 

The sun has laid a path of gold 
Across the sober stretch of sea, 

And if one walks that path, I'm told, 
He is forevermore set free. 

No cry of pain can follow him, 
Nor can his weary eyes look back; 

The years behind grow far and dim — 
He sees naught but the golden track. 

Where does it lead ? Not one can tell ; 

But this much we can know is true: 
That he who follows long and well 

Does not come back to me and you ! 



49 



Thou Temptress, Moon, so pale across the sea, 

With silver, gleaming arms outstretched to me, 

While we two walk abroad this summer 
night ! 

Ah, Lovely Mistress of the Land of Light, 

Thou canst not draw me from the lips of one 

Whose very presence thou indeed shouldst 
shun 

For shame and envy to be thus excelled. 

These many nights have she and I beheld 
Thy lonely splendor from this self-same 

shore — 
Thy radiance mantling her whom 1 adore. 

And blending lips and eyes and tangled hair 

Into a lovely and a fragrant snare 
For such a heart as mine. So, Temptress pale. 
Thy beauty is not all without avail. 

We leave thee thus — thy gleaming arms 
still spread 

Across the sea, thy gently drooping head 
Soft-cushioned in the blankets of the sky — 
But we shall see thee more — My Love and L 



50 



tCijrougi) jMp Hatticeb IS^inboto 

My latticed window opens on the street, 
And when night closes in upon the day, 

I listen at my window for the feet 
Of one who climbs the hill to pass this way. 

And, waiting here, I catch the lilac's smell. 
And hear the rolling melody of surf — 

The pines above the house have cast their spell 
In lengthening shadows on the wild-grown 
turf. 

Dear Heart, the day has not been all misspent 
If you but keep the promise of your eyes 

And follow here the lilac's magic scent 
To take my latticed window by surprise. 



51 



Hoofe, Hotie, upon tlje ^ea 

Look, Love, upon the sea — 

The ripples, moonlit from the brow of heaven. 

The high and lighted places through yon tree, 

Where holy whiteness hangs, 

And there is no discord ! 

One solemn breath that lingers as a sigh 

From lips half parted — spoke to one adored — 

A sigh, and that is all. 

Yet, Love, beyond the sea. 

Beyond the whitened ripples and the light, 

Where such a night as this can never be. 

Are dark, eternal woes! 

Are far and misty places! 

Where cold unloveliness sojourns, and love 

Is stranger. See, the hideous, mist-blown faces 

Look out upon us now! 



52 



Love, let us leave the sea — 

Leave far behind the agony of sin, 

From deathlike visions of the cold mist flee 

And seek the high hills' peace, 

The tall pines' quietness! 

It is a darksome world — beyond this place— 

And lest the one of us should love the less, 

Come ! Let us leave the sea ! 



53 



tKfjougfjte on a Spring J^istjt 

Light air of the spring-born night, 
Smoke-haze of the softening light, 
And the day gives up its strength. 
Shops darken — doors swing to; 
Footsteps dwindle to a few. 
And I walk the dim street's length. 

Yellow-blue and yellow-grey — 
These are the dying tints of day. 
Misty-dim are the city's lamps — 
Misty-dim from the mellow damps, 
And down the dim and yellow way 
I pass. 

Beloved, if thou were but here! 

The mist-dimmed night would then grow clear, 

The unnamed stars, love-born, would shine, 

And this dull air become rich wine 

To drown ourselves in ! . . . Ah, a tear, 

Instead. 



54 



jFire of Hje JBtitxt 

The sun set red tonight ! 
And oh, if thou had stood 
With me beneath that light 
Which flamed above the sand, 
Thou could have understood 
Things I now understand — 
The sun set red tonight ! 

The sun set red tonight ! 
And all the purple mist — 
That mist of our delight — 
Grew rose-red on the hills. 
And all the clouds were kissed 
And made red as the hills — 
The sun set red tonight ! 

The sun set red tonight ! 
And as I saw the world 
Flame red beneath the light 
I saw two hearts of youth 
Blend rose-red with the world- 
The rose-red world of youth — 
The sun set red tonight! 

55 



S>prms jWiorn 

Out of the East, grown grey, 

Silently, Dawn was born. 
Out of the Dawn grew Day, 

Blossoming into Morn. 

Lo! as the young Morn breathed. 
All of the sweet flowers woke, 

Shaking the perfumed dew 
Loose from their velvet cloak. 

Petals of peach-bloom fell 

Fluttering on the wings. 
Light wings of East-blown winds — 

Winds that the warm Dawn brings. 

So, as the young Morn came, 
Flower-folk, passion-wrung. 

Loving too much, drooped low. 
Quivered, then fell, far-flung. 

E'en so did my full heart — 
Gift of the budding Spring — 

Open to welcome Morn, 
Of him did my soul sing. 

56 



My heart — as fallen flowers — 
When the Morn's soft breath came 

Laden with drowsy love, 
Withered from love's own flame. 

Out of the West, grown grey. 

Silently, Night was born. 
Night, he who brings the Day, 

Blossoming into Morn. 



57 



^ t!i;ent=Iisi)t on tfje ©efiert 

Desert night ! and all the red 
And gold of desert day has fled, 
Leaving the sands — 
Those changing sands — 
As cold and dreary as the dead, 
In desert night. 

Solitude! not e'en the wind 

Dares break the desert spells which bind 

The silent sands — 

Night, desert sands — 

And in them shall I never find 

But solitude? 

Thy tent-light! ah, there it gleams 
Afar in desert night, its beams 
Thrown o'er the sands — 
Night, desert sands — 
Beloved, I shall seek in dreams 
Thy far tent-light! 



58 



Three kisses are to each man given, 

Three, and only three. 
Each kiss is one third part of heaven; 

The soul is but these three. 

The first is at the mother's breast. 

The kiss of birth; 
The second is love's kiss, the best, 

(We know love's worth) ; 
The third is death's kiss, white and blest. 

Farewell to earth. 



59 



Hifee ©eatfi 

Sometimes when I have looked upon the sea, 

In moonlight, or beneath the brighter sun, 

I have been moved to say, 'That is like 
Death." 

An endless, governed restlessness of waves, 

Lapping the myriad sands of unknown shores. 

And yet a heavy liquid peace within, 

A strong, strange bosom of eternity. 

Sometimes, too, I have looked upon the land, 

When miracles of seed have hailed the spring, 

And then, too, have I said, 'That is like 
Death." 

A bursting from the embryo of Life, 

Into the fulness of a thousand fruits. 

The radiant flowering of the obscure spark 

Into a world of God-like magnitude. 



60 



Again, I have looked straight into the sun, 
And, blinded by its universal light, 
I have said to myself, 'That is like Death." 
A space which body never can traverse, 
A vast, exultant rhythm, and a warmth 
Which clutches at the soul, and draws it in, 
Uniting it forever with its fire. 



61 



I am braiding my hair in the dark, O my love, 
And the touch of my hands on the sweet- 
smelling strands 
Sings a song in the dark, O my love. 

There's a wind, a wild wind, on the sea, O my 
love, 

And a storm on the hill,that I fear may blow 

ill- 
Ill to you and to me, O my love. 

I am ever afraid when I wait, O my love, 
And I turn down the light, for my eyes they 

are bright — 
Oh, so bright when I wait, O my love. 

I have let down my hair, soft and sweet, O my 
love, 

And it covers me well, like a shield from a 

spell. 
And it kisses my feet, O my love. 



62 



I am braiding it now in two strands, O my 

love, 
And I pray that this night it may wind itself 

tight 
O'er your face and your hands, O my love. 



63 



m- 



HERE, THEN, END THE VERSES OF DREAMS, 
YEARNINGS AND JOYS OF LIFE HY GLENN 
HUGHES ENTITLED SOULS, PRINTED ON 
TUSCANY HANDMADE PAPER AND MADE INTO 
A BOOK BY PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY AT 
THEIR TOMOYE PRESS IN THE CITY OF SAN 
FRANCISCO, UNDER THE CAREFUL DIRECTION 
OF RICARDO J. OROZCO, IN THE MONTH OF 
OCTOBER, NINETEEN HUNDRED SEVENTEEN 



i»# 



is 




EScffiK^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 897 889 1 



